


My Sisters Keeper

by anerdandanofficer



Category: Coronation Street
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anerdandanofficer/pseuds/anerdandanofficer
Summary: As Kate was leaving, feeling like her heart was aching in her chest, letting out a shaking breath as she slipped out of the back room leaving Rana and Alya there, she had bumped into someone on her way to the door. Not quite the swift and quiet exit she was hoping for, and she blushed as she realised that of course her luck, it was Rana’s brother she had almost barreled over in her ‘unnoticed’ escape.He gave her a cheeky smile, a smile that reminded her of Rana. Playful Rana, from drinks at the Rovers and games nights at the flat. Not this Rana she faced now, not the Rana that made sad eyes at her across the street.//An exploration of Rana and Kate's relationship, framed through looking at Rana's childhood and her relationship with Imran woven into the current timeline of events.





	My Sisters Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much @loeylolo (on tumblr) for editing this for me, and helping this Aussie british-ise some of the language!
> 
> So I really wanted explore Rana and her upbringing and her struggles with telling Zeedan, in light of recent episodes, and ended up with a story that does loosely involve Imran and their relationship but also just really explores Rana as a character and why I feel she is having such a hard time, inspired by recent episodes and spoilers.

* * *

 

Rana’s parents had always seen in her something that unsettled them. Maybe it was her unwavering spirit, maybe it was a fire in her eyes from a young age, that they instinctively knew could not be tamed in the way they wanted it to be tamed. She had had a rebellious streak, a yearning for something outside of the carefully planned life they wanted for her. And so it was that they came to expect that every expectation they had, she would fall short of.

 

She didn’t smoke, only drank a little when she got older, liked to date (and never the good muslim boys that her mother picked out or tried to send her way, but neither was she being dragged into trouble by ‘bad boys’). Nothing ever too harmful, but never quite what they wanted from her. Her brother on the other hand seemed to fit perfectly into the path they had laid out for him, on the surface at least, and that was all that seemed to matter. Married, settled, a nice muslim girl too, a stable, respectable ( _read: impressive_ ) career as a lawyer. Never mind what Rana knew him to really be like, the cheeky smile he would flash her behind their parents back, the secrets he would tell her after they’d gone to bed.

 

But if their parents had seen the bright spirit inside of Rana and had shied from it, tried to suppress  it and admonished it, her brother had admired it. Imran would be the one to egg her on, to sneak her out of the house if she needed to. Protected by his status as the golden child, but he used this as a shield when he could, to protect her or to help her. As children he had been almost her best friend.

 

And they had drifted over the years, his time taken up with studies and work and his wife, but they would still talk from time to time. She remembers what he had said about Zeedan, when his parents had obviously come back gabbing about him and Rana. She’d never seen them so happy about something she had done. Not when she finished top of her class in nursing. Not when she told them about what she had done at work. _But now._ And she had been so mad when he had been surprised and perplexed at her choice, at her settling as he put it.

 

“How d’you know I’m settling? He is sweet and kind and handsome and I love him.”

 

She had heard his shrug down the line from the tone in this voice, imagined the look of ‘if you insist’ he would have given her, “Okay sis. Just doesn’t seem like our Rana, that’s all.”.

 

-

 

The first time that he met Kate doesn’t count, because they didn’t really meet. Kate was drunk and all of her focus was on Rana that night. Married Rana. Zeedan’s wife. In that stunning dress, her hair carefully placed, looking beautiful and untouchable. How was this the same woman that had this morning been begging her to give her a reason not to go through with this, now so put together as she gave tight lipped smiles to her family and tried to avoid Kate’s eyes.

 

Kate remembers the sad girl from that morning, the teary eyes and tired expression, still making Kate’s breath catch in her tracksuit. Here she is carefully put together, making small talk and forcing smiles, and repeating over and over like a mantra how happy she is, accepting congratulations, it makes Kate feel ill. _Or is that the alcohol swirling in her stomach?_

 

The problem of course is that drunk Kate has tunnel vision, for Rana and Rana only. Making her less conscious than ever of the fact that they are in a crowded room of all of Rana and Zeedan’s friends and family, and she is staring at Rana as though the bride has just torn her heart out.

 

As Kate was leaving, feeling like her heart was aching in her chest, letting out a shaking breath as she slipped out of the back room leaving Rana and Alya there, she had bumped into someone on her way to the door. Not quite the swift and quiet exit she was hoping for, and blushed as she realised that of course her luck, it was Rana’s brother she had almost barreled over in her ‘unnoticed’ escape.

 

He gave her a cheeky smile, a smile that reminded her of Rana. Playful Rana, from drinks at the Rovers and games nights at the flat. Not this Rana she faced now, not the Rana that made sad eyes at her across the street.

 

“You alright there?” he had laughed, and she had given him a wry smile, done her best to brush back her hair and seem somewhat put together.

 

“Right as rain,” it came out somewhat slurred, and he had taken her gently by the arm and carefully led her towards the front door - where she had been headed - preventing any further bumps or trips or awkward run-ins on the way.

 

“I think you are my favourite of my sisters friends,” he commented as they reached the doorway, seemingly genuinely entertained. She gave him the first genuine smile she had that night.

 

“I think you are my favourite of Rana’s family,” she whispered back conspiratorially, and earnt herself another of his laughs, big bellied and full in it’s tone, before she stumbled slightly out of the door.

 

-

 

Their second meeting was their first official introduction. Kate hadn’t recognised him at first, too caught up in her head as she came over to his table at the bistro. She was thinking about Rana, trying not to get caught up in the memory of her lips yesterday afternoon, as she pulled out her pen and swallowed thickly.

 

“What can I get you?” came out of her mouth like a habit, without even a conscious thought, just moving through the motions.

 

“Kate, right?”

 

Everyone who came in to the Bistro either tended to know exactly who she was, or not at all. She blinked and finally focussed on the man sitting in the booth, with his neatly pressed shirt and hands clasped where they sat on the table. He was giving her a broad grin, that spoke of what should have been an amusing shared memory.

 

“Erhm, yes? Sorry, and you are….?”

  
She should have guessed by the smile, maybe that just showed how badly Rana had her in a spin today, the ghost of her kisses still burning a distracting trail down her neck.

 

“Imran, Rana’s brother. We met at her wedding…” Kate could already feel herself turning the shade of a tomato, and his smile widened as he saw this and knew it had clicked.

 

“Oh gosh, can we pretend that didn’t happen and start again?” she adjusted her apron self consciously, “Hi, I’m Kate, Rana’s… friend, nice to meet you,” she joked, tried to cover her stumble over the word friend, which caught on her tongue like it was covered in thorns.

 

“A pleasure to _finally_ meet you Kate, Rana has told me a lot about you,” he played along, shaking her hand over enthusiastically.

 

“Oh, _has_ she just?” she tried to play this off with a skeptical smile and a roll of her eyes. Rana talking about Kate to her brother, the thought was amusing in a kind of wishful way that made Kate’s stomach squirm with want. But this part he grinned at sincerely and leant back in the booth.

 

“Only non-bloody stop, best friend she’s got. Apart from Alyah, aye ? But since they’re family now an’ all, that hardly counts,” he gave her a wink, “now, what does a bloke have to do to get some coffee round here?” Kate blinked, mouth feeling dry as she realised that he was being truthful. The thought of Rana talking about her, to _anyone_ let alone her brother, made her cheeks feel warm. She bit her lip.

 

“Right, _sorry_ , what can I get ya?”

 

Several minutes later they were deep in conversation as she served him his coffee. His laugh filled the quiet Bistro as she leant against the chair opposite, and listened enthralled to hear a tale about young Rana, which involved a vivacious five year old who wanted to try and climb the tree in their backyard. Kate had a feeling the saga would not end well, but listened and laughed at the dramatic way that Imran told the story.

 

She felt as though there was a physical shift in the room when the door opened, and she heard someone enter. Without having any way of knowing who it was - not a word, not a sound, not a smell - maybe it was chemical, some biological reaction when they were in the same space - but she knew that it was Rana even before Imran paused mid-sentence and looked up.

 

“Sis!” he declared, grinning pleasantly as she approached the table. Kate glanced across, could read the uncertainty and hesitation written across Rana’s face as she reached the table. Where she stopped beside Kate her shoulder just brushed against  Kate’s ever so slightly, in that soft and subtle way that she would to say hello whenever they met in a public place. An unnecessary touch, small and seemingly chaste, which usually produced in them both a giddy smile far more telling than anything else.

 

“What are you two talking about then?” It was a standard Rana tone, just an octave too high as she tried to play it cool and hide her nervous paranoia, misused on the two people who knew her better than anyone else. Kate bit her lip and tried to pretend she wasn’t acutely aware that Rana was nervous at the idea of her speaking to Imran. Imran quirked an eyebrow at his sister.

 

“ _Alright_ _sis_ , don’t worry, I’m not about to hit on your friend or anything. I was just telling Kate here some embarrassing stories about you,” he grinned and took a sip of his coffee, “you want to join me?”

 

“You better bloody not have,” Rana quipped back, tension easing slightly. Imran had never got on with Zee this well. He was never _rude_ , they just didn’t click. He had certainly never told Zee embarrassing childhood stories about her. Him and Kate however seemed to be chatting up a storm.

 

“Ooh yes, some good ones too. And you can bet I ain’t gunna let you forget ‘em,” Kate teased, wiggling her eyebrows in that way that made Rana both laugh and sent a hot jolt through her stomach. Kate quickly bit back her grin at seeing the soft blush that rose in Rana’s cheeks.

 

“Right, I’d best let you two…” she trailed off, almost bumping into a customer as she took a step back too fast and shaking her head. Imran laughed loudly, making a comment about Kate never being too steady on her feet, an in-joke it seemed, as Rana slid into the opposite side of the booth trying to steele her expression into a look of nonchalance.

 

She was succeeding, until Imran lifted his coffee cup and said, “I like her,” nodding in Kate’s direction. She blinked, glancing back over her shoulder at the brunette now back behind the bar. She watched Kate card a hand through her hair and take a deep breath, looking stunning, dark locks falling softly back around her shoulders before she tied them neatly up into a ponytail. When Rana glanced back to her brother he was watching her, head tilted slightly to one side, gave her a soft smile and return to his coffee without comment.

 

-

 

Rana had come to think that the things that made her happy, were the things that made everyone around her unhappy. Therefore anything that ever made her that happy, really _happy_ , instinctively made her uneasy. The thing which made her happiest of all was Kate, _and that scared her in a way she didn’t know how to describe_. Being with Kate, and only Kate, would make her happier than anything else, but would be the cause of unhappiness for everyone else around her, the cause of so much pain. Losing Kate would kill her. Being sad she could handle, miserable even she could suffer through for the sake of everyone else. But losing Kate would be so much worse than that.

 

And such was her paradox, her cage, the fear that trapped her.

 

Sometimes she tried to convince herself everything was fine as it was. She had Kate, without hurting everyone else. But secret rendezvous in Kate’s cousin’s flat was hardly happiness for anyone, and the web of people who knew was growing. When Kate was kissing her, when she was curled up against Kate’s side, when their fingers were interwoven and Rana could lay her head on Kate’s chest and hear her racing heartbeat, everything was perfect. Moments like that made her feel warm, made her shoulders feel light, made her so content she felt like she was brimming over with it. But so quickly that all fell away again. When she was sitting at dinner with Zee and Yasmeen, and wondering where Kate was right now, what she was doing, missing her, all the while forcing a smile - it felt horrible. When her and Zee were in a booth at the Rovers and Kate walked in, and they shared a look across the bar, Rana wanted to be sick. The way that the olive brown of Kate’s eyes shifted darker, the soft dimple of her cheeks disappeared, felt like a heavy coldness in the pit of Rana’s stomach.

 

Sometimes she got up in the middle of the night and tip-toed downstairs to call Kate.

 

“‘Ello?” the answer was groggy and slurred, then, “Rana, you okay?” rising panic in the low, gravelly tone of Kate’s voice.

 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” Rana whispered back, curled up on one end of the Nazir’s couch with the phone pressed to her ear, “ _I miss you_.“

 

One very early morning (or very late night) she fell asleep to the sound of Kate drifting through the phone. She woke to feel herself being lifted from the couch into the arms of her brother, and gently carried upstairs. Halfway up she blinked awake blearily, panic rising in her throat.

 

“My phone-” she whispered. He smiled and held it up, tucking it into the pocket of her dressing gown, but didn’t say a word. And she knew that he knew that something was going on, whether or not he had a real idea of exactly what she was unsure, but he didn’t meddle, didn’t say anything, didn’t ask, didn’t judge or reprimand.

 

-

 

The problem of course was that Rana’s paradox didn’t account for the one most important thing. She could see it, the moment that she let Kate down once again, that she had done the one thing worse than anything else - because _Kate looked miserable_. And by the time Kate was leaving, all the fight in Rana was gone, because that look in Kate’s eyes was killing her. She knew that begging her to stay would be nothing other than selfish.

 

And so she held it in. Just as she had all day. Let the hot sting of tears in her eyes stay that, a sting, willing her tears not to fall. She used every inch of strength she had not to breakdown, to hold steadfast as Kate left. As the taillights of the taxi disappeared down the dark, wet cobbles, and she felt the bottom of her stomach drop. Fought back the urge to scream in the silence in the wake of Sophie’s words. Fought back the jealous insecurity that told her Sophie would have been so much better for Kate than she was.

 

As her brother walked up the cobbles, giving her a small, sheepish wave on approach, Sophie squeezed her shoulder softly and went back inside.

 

“Hey sis, you alright?” Imran’s voice was soft, the usual teasing and cocky tone gone. There was the little boy who put the plaster  on her knee after she fell out of the tree, who did his best to get the grass stains out of her dress (though he made the matter worse), that same soft smile, warm hand on her shoulder. And it cracked. The delicate facade broke open, just for a moment. The tears flooded down her face as she fell against his chest, and sobbed, allowing herself to feel _just for a moment_ the pain that was tearing at her chest, burning in the pit of her stomach. Imran said nothing, just stood and let her cry it out. And when she stopped, he handed her his handkerchief.

 

“I’m really sorry about Luke,” he said, in a way that said, _and the other thing, whatever it is that you don’t want to talk about_.

 

-

 

She held it together, for Alyah’s sake, Kate’s words ringing in her ears. Put all of her focus into making sure that her friend was okay. Her quietness, her sombreness, blending in with everyone else's grief. She was allowed to be forgetful and distracted at work, to stay in on Friday nights, and put less effort into her smiles.

 

But every day of radio silence from Kate, she felt more and more alone. Every time Zee put his arm around her shoulders and said, ‘thank god I have you’, she felt sick.

 

She was in the bistro on her lunch break having a coffee, stirring through the sugar for longer than necessary, just watching the milky white froth darken in looping spirals of coffee brown, when someone sat down at her booth. She looked up and found Sophie giving her a gentle smile.

 

“Hiya,” she greeted. Rana took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and smiled back.

 

“Day off?” she asked distractedly, waving a hand at Sophie’s outfit, a dress in an interesting shade of yellow that somehow didn’t look half bad on the brunette but was certainly not garage appropriate.

 

“Yeah. Not yours I guess,” she indicated to Rana’s bright blue uniform, “I won’t hold you up on your break, just, wanted to check in. See how you was doing.” Thoughts tumbled around inside Rana’s head, the truth, a lie, or somewhere in between. In the end all she could manage was a pathetic shrug, as she swallowed back tears, and cast her gaze back down to her coffee.

 

“Ya know, if you ever want someone to talk to, I’m happy to listen.” Rana forced a smile as she looked back up.

 

“Thanks Soph, I appreciate it. _I just_ , don’t feel much like talking. You uhm-” she cleared her throat, “heard from Kate?” She regretted asking the moment that it came out of her mouth, hated herself for the desperation that quivered her voice, but Sophie seemed to take this as a sad girl who missed her mate. She reached out and put her hand on Rana’s comfortingly.

 

“Not much. Like, two texts, the whole time. One to say she was there safe, and then today asking how everyone’s doing. I told ‘er, everyone’s bloody miserable. _You_ especially,” Sophie gave her a teasing smile, squeezing her hand. When Rana failed to return it she paused and went quiet for a moment.

 

“She’ll come back, yeah?” the wavering hope in her tone hit Rana in the gut, how closely it resembled her own. It had been two weeks now, Rana’s days of denial had long died away as that fear at the back of her mind that said Kate wasn’t ever coming back grew stronger and bigger. Part of Rana thought it for the better, for Kate that was, for everyone else. Because she now knew better than to believe she could keep herself away when they were in the same town. They were magnets. But the rest of her ached so badly, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. _In her mind she was constantly on the verge of running out onto the cobbles and hailing a cab to Devon. Twisting her hands nervously in her lap as the car bumped down the cobbles, and some bad radio station played softly in the front, like static against her nervous thoughts._

 

Now Sophie’s eyes watched hers, and she blinked out of the dark thoughts that swam through her subconscious, forcing her lips back into a strained smile.

 

“Course she is. She just needs some time.” _Some time to get over me. Some time to get over this_. But if Kate’s broken heart was anything like her own, she did not know how much time that would take to heal, if there even was enough to do so.

 

-

 

Imran had insisted on taking her out for a drink. “ _I think you could use one_ ,” his hand ruffling her hair in that way that made her feel like his kid sister for half a second. For half a second she was the rambunctious eight year old whose parents disapproved of the books that she read, and the imagination they sparked in her, who tore maps out of the school library atlas and plotted out her future adventures with her brothers help. Then she snaps back, and she is a bewildered young woman torn between selfishly owning who she really is and maintaining the happiness of those around her. That is how it sometimes feels, as though loving Kate, choosing to love Kate, would be selfish.

 

So she lets her brother buy her a drink, and then another, and then another - just enough to make everything blurry. Maybe if her speech is slurred and her vision blurred, so that everything else becomes hazy. The memories, the thoughts, the lines.

 

“What is it?” Imran yells at her over the rowdy background noise of some pub in Manchester that she’s never been to before.

 

“Kate.” The name rolls off her tongue too easily, before she can pull herself back. Imran nods, a firm hand coming to rest on her shoulder comfortingly.

 

“You really miss her, aye?” Understatement of the week. She flounders for a response, something dismissive enough to move the conversation on. It should be easy enough, just say yes, casually, shrug your shoulders and take another sip of your drink. But when she turns her head and looks him in the eye, she feels the hot prick of tears. Her brother’s brow furrows, and he leans forward.

  
“Rana?” Two syllables that mark the fork in the road. And before she knows it, she is babbling, about how it is all her fault, and she doesn’t know what to do, about how she feels miserable, about Luke, and regret, and Kate, and feeling like her heart has been ripped out of her chest, about Zeedan and Alyah and Yasmeen and guilt eating at pit of her stomach. It’s a mess of a monologue, she isn’t even sure that she can follow, nevermind Imran. What he is able to piece together she isn’t sure, but he lets her get it all of her chest.

 

He makes her drink several large glasses of water, has the cab drop them off a fair way from the Nazir’s and walk the alcohol off along the dark cobbles. The lights are off inside, and she pauses, leans against the brick exterior for a moment to catch her breath.

 

“I need to tell him,” she says. Imran nods, quiet.

 

“But now’s not the right time, now is the _worst_ time.” He nods again.

 

“Right? I mean, _Luke just died, how selfish would that be. But the longer I drag it out, the worse it gets. What do I do_?” Her whispered plea drips with desperation, and Imran sighs heavily, shaking his head.

 

“Rana, I can’t help you with this. You need to make the decision on your own. Not because I, or Kate, or anyone else tells you. But I will be here for you, either way. Always.”

 

-

 

They’re sat in the Rovers, in a booth. Rana has a half a seat distance between herself and Zeedan, though he doesn’t seem to notice, as he discusses arrangements for Luke upcoming funeral, going over the details. Alyah says it helps to focus on something, to talk about him, so they let her. Fuss over little things that they all know don’t matter.

 

Rana has been even more distracted than ever all day, because Kate is back. It’s the whisper that ran through the street like a wildfire yesterday, as all gossip does in Weatherfield . And now it is all that she can think about, her mind is consumed with the knowledge that around any corner or in the next room, she could see her, hear her voice. She may have been a miserable wreck while Kate was gone, but she finds herself a nervous wreck knowing she is back.

 

And yet when it does finally happen she isn’t ready, not remotely prepared, for seeing Kate. Kate’s brown hair tangling in the wind that follows her in through the door in a large gust before it closes behind her. Kate who looks gorgeous as she slips off that heavy brown coat, and reveals the semi-transparent top beneath. Kate who is smiling, cheeks pink from the cold, greeted by Sophie with a tight hug that makes Rana’s blood boil with jealousy she knows she has no right to. She tries to reel herself in, but her face can’t be masked. Three long weeks has taken its toll on her, and she can’t hide it this time, can’t pull it back.

 

She gets up abruptly, eyes downturned. She knows that if she meets anyone’s eyes right now she will give everything away. And for what? A woman who has no doubt moved on. A woman giggling at Sophie’s joke, as they sit at the bar. That laugh which usually makes her weak at the knees now turns her stomach as it is caused by somebody else.

 

“Loo,” she mutters, can barely get the syllable out, her mouth dry and voice wavering. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Alyah nod distractedly.

 

Never has she paid such close attention to the worn wooden floors of the pub as she does making a beeline for the back, doing her best not to brush against Kate as she passes her and almost knocking Beth over in the process, her heart hammering in her chest. She charges straight past the toilets, into the back courtyard. She revels at the cold air hitting her flushed skin. She leans against the trellis, squeezes her eyes shut tight as she takes a deep breath, when she hears the door open again. No doubt Zee has followed her out, he always has the worst timing - she recalls the day that Kate left, hates herself for the irritation she had felt when he interrupted them in this very spot. When she opens her eyes though, Kate’s are staring back, and back again is that melancholy twisting in olive brown. Her mouth is a tight line.

 

Rana wants to say something brash and sarcastic, something callus to use as a shield, but all she can muster is, “Hi.” It comes out softly, a fragile whisper that makes Kate want to give in right then. Three weeks has done nothing, Rana can still look at her in that breathless, sad way and turn Kate into a puddle. But she clenches her jaw instead, shakes her head.

 

“What are ya playing at?” She sees Rana flinch at the cold sharpness of her tone, casting her gaze down in that guilty look Rana does so well, that Kate knows would make her forgive any number of domestic faux pas. No matter how many times Rana had burnt their dinner or forgotten Kate’s dry cleaning, that look would make Kate forgive her and want to shower her in kisses. And the very thought of that, the impossibleness of the sweet idea, makes anger flare in her chest all over again.

 

“And don’t you dare say one thing about Sophie right now, one single dig, cos you ‘ave no right.” When those dark eyes come back up to meet hers, they are swimming, a night sky reflected on the depths of a lake.

 

“I can’t help how I feel, even if I have no _right_ to be jealous, doesn’t mean I can shut it off when I see you with her,” she shoots back, but there is no anger in her voice though she willed there to be, nothing but fragility and defeat. Kate shakes her head, crosses her arms just to keep herself from reaching out.

 

“How do you think _I_ feel, every day, when I see you with Zeedan? Just- just stay away from me, Rana, okay?” she is shaking her head as she backs towards the door, pushes it open and breaks the quietness of the cold courtyard with the noises flooding out from inside.

 

The door swings shut behind her. Somehow Kate being back is worse, not better, when they can’t be together, when Kate looks at her like that.

 

She sends a text to Zeedan, that she wasn’t feeling well and went home. She slips out the back gate, knowing she can’t walk back through the Rovers with tears trickling down her cheeks.

 

By the time she gets back to the Nazir’s _thankfully empty_ house the trickle is more like a flood. She leans against the back of the couch, running a hand through her hair, when the door opens.

 

There is no hiding this time. No stopping the tears from coming. Zeedan takes a moment to register, that this is not his sick wife come back early from the pub with an upset stomach. Something is wrong. She watches it process through his mind, but already she knows this is not going to be easy.

 

“Hey, what's the matter?” he rushes over, goes to put his arm around her, but she shrugs him off, moves back out of his reach, a fresh waves of tears spilling over as she opens her mouth. _Just say it. Just say it. Just say it._

 

“Zee, I- I’m in love. With, someone else.” It comes rushing out in a frantic sob, and for a horrifying moment she thinks maybe he hasn’t heard her clearly. That she will have to repeat that horrible sentence a second time. She looks away, sees the photo frame behind him on the front table, the picture of them together, and cringes. He is silent, still. She swallows thickly, purses her lips as she turns back to Zeedan, but there are no words, no explanation, when she sees his frown. He takes a step back.

 

“Wha’?”

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to happen, it just, did.”

 

“I can’t believe this,” his voice is heavy, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Zee-” But he shakes his head, steps further back away from her.

 

“How long?”

 

“How-?”  
  
“How long ‘as it been going on? How long ‘ave you been making a fool out of me for? Was it before the wedding? Who is it? Some Doctor from your work? It’s not Aiden is it?” his fists are clenched at his sides, jaw tight.

 

“It’s not- it’s over now. It doesn’t matter who it was,” she deflects, wiping the tears from her face, “I’m so sorry Zee, I really am. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear-”

 

“I want you out.”  
  
“What?”

 

“You heard me. Get your stuff and get out.”

 

-

 

Imran doesn’t look up at first when she opens the door to his office at the solicitors, eyes glued to his screen as he types with ferocious speed.

 

“Come in, I’ll be right with you,” his tone cool and professional, until the sniffle catches his attention, and he looks up to find Rana standing in his doorway with two suitcases and a duffle bag, on the verge of tears.

 

“I told him.” is about all that she can muster.

 

Once she finishes bawling into his shoulder he shakes his head.

 

“A right pair we are, aye?” he teases, “ _two_ failed marriages, mum’ll have a fit.” The attempt at a joke makes her burst back into tears all over again.

 

“ _Mum and dad are never going to talk to me again_ ,” she manages to whisper.

 

“What?” Imran frowns, looking down at her as she slumps against the back of the couch. Rana lets out something between a laugh and a sigh, head tilting to one side and she gives him a pointed look.

 

“ _Kate_.” her brother blinks, eyebrows raising as everything fits together.

 

“Oh, well, that whole drunk rant of yours makes so much sense now.” She would swat him for being so nonchalant, if she wasn’t so glad that he is.

 

“I like her, you know,” he adds with a grin.

 

-

 

The first day back at work is the hardest. She spent the whole day before holed up in Imran’s apartment, refusing to leave. But as he rightly pointed out, it can’t be avoided forever, and it is a small street. She has Imran’s instant coffee for breakfast, no Roy’s  today, and she takes the long way around to the medical centre so that she doesn’t have to pass by the Bistro. With Sean gone, work is manageable. No-one here knows anything. Until, that is, she sees that her next patient is Sophie Webster.

 

She half contemplates calling reception and asking them to send her home, say there was a mistake in the booking system. But that would be ridiculous. Instead she takes a deep breath and opens the door, and she gives a small smile as Sophie walks in.

 

“Hey Soph, you’re unwell are you?” she asks, letting Sophie take a seat. Sophie gives her a sheepish smile.

 

“Not exactly…” she trails off guilty, “I heard what happened.” Rana frowns.

 

“Oh.”  
  
“An’ no-one’s seen you since, so I wanted to see if you was okay? I feel like, after Kate left, we became pretty close, yeah? I thought maybe you could use a friend.”   
  
Rana really wants to be annoyed, but it is actually really sweet, and true, and makes her feel even more guilty for opening her big mouth about Kate. She pushes down her jealousy, over what may or may not be going on between them, because that’s hardly Sophie’s fault, and sighs.

 

“Thanks, Soph.”

 

-

 

Eating dinner alone in Imran’s apartment (because he is working late again) serves to fully drill in to Rana just how isolated she feels. She pokes at her egg on toast (limited resources in her brothers fridge) before pushing back her chair and slumping down into the uncomfortable wooden seat somewhat sullenly.

 

The funny thing is that, as sad as she is, she also isn’t. The guilt still keeps her up at night, going back and forth over whether to call Alyah or not, will it make things worse or has she effectively abandoned her at the one time she shouldn’t? But she no longer feels trapped,  or  suffocated. For the first time in months she can breathe.

 

The only thing missing is Kate. But she doesn’t feel like she has the right to tell her, to disrupt her life all over again, when she hasn’t even come out (to anyone other than her brother). Maybe someday soon, she thinks, daydreams wistfully of barging into the Bistro and standing on a table top dramatically and declaring her love for Kate. ‘ _Rana, get down from there, what are you doing? Everyone’s staring at ya_ ’ pink cheeked, as she looks up. ‘ _I don’t care if the whole bloody street knows it. Kate Connor, you are the love of my life_.’ She chews the inside of her cheek and groans, how unrealistic, when a knock at the door startles her into almost falling off her chair.

 

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your keys,” she belows as she walks to the front door and pulls it open, “what would you have done if I wasn-” she falters when it isn’t Imran standing there, but Kate. Breathless Kate, flushed across the top of her cheek bones and top of her chest, biting her lip and shaking her head.

 

“What are-” but she doesn’t finish. Kate’s hands are cupping her cheeks, pulling her in. Her lips are soft, but the kiss is charged, electric, and wanting. Her hands find Kate’s waist and pull closer, so that she can feel her warmth. She grasps at Kate’s jacket, as though letting go might mean _letting go,_ and pulls her out of the cold corridor into the warm apartment, leaving the door ajar behind them. She only pulls back, inhaling deeply when she tastes salt on Kate’s lips, and realises she is crying. Kate sighs against her mouth, presses their foreheads together.

 

“It’s still _messy_ ,” Rana whispers apologetically, for everything, hoping her eyes can tell Kate what her words cannot.

 

“I know, but, I love you,” she whispers back, “I love you, and I am so tired of fighting it.”

 

“I love you too,” Rana replies, the first time she realises that she has said it _to_ Kate. Kate’s smile back makes her stomach flutter, makes her heart feel so light that she feels her chest could burst with it, in the best possible way. And for the first time she feels happy, _really_ happy, and she doesn’t feel guilty about it.


End file.
